I had a teacher who asked us if we had experienced a love like that of Tristan and Iseult. Someone more shy would raise their hand and murmur yes. “That’s a lie!” the teacher roared, “If you knew this kind of love, you wouldn’t be here, putting up with me and taking notes. You are here, hopelessly mediocre, because you have no idea what it means to love and be loved. After this categorical failure, the exam grade no longer counted. Many students were angry at what they thought was an insult, but I agreed with him: if an Isolde wanted me, I would be in my Breton castle, scanning the horizon, watching the rigging of his ship, and not listening to the Jeremiads of one frustrated philosopher against a classroom of unarmed college students.
Ever since then, I’ve admired those who live their passions out loud, like Nacho Cano. The old mechanic proclaimed his love for Isabel Díaz Ayuso this Thursday to the winds of Antena 3 with Trancas and Barrancas as witnesses. It may not be romantic or erotic love, but it has as much Wagnerian strength as the Mayan pyramid he insisted on building: “Will she play it for me and I won’t play it for her, even a little?” ‘ he wondered in front of some delighted cuddly toys, as if they were listening to the aria ‘Odiese Sonne’ from the third act of Wagner’s opera.
I don’t know what Cano and Ayuso played in a game where one won a medal and a show at Ifema and the other an outdated parliamentary majority. If the sacrament of marriage requires fidelity in poverty and in riches, these spouses have known only the latter. Although love’s true test lies in the first, I hope they never suffer it and don’t fall off the top of the pyramid.
You can follow EL PAÍS TELEVISION on Twitter or sign up here to receive our weekly newsletter.
Exclusive content for subscribers
read limitless